


What Did He Ever Do (To Get So Damn Lucky)

by lavenderlotion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Drunk Chris, Established Chris/Peter, Get Together, M/M, Stripping, coming, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 10:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13703010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Stiles has no fucking idea how he keeps getting himself into these situations. Well, to be fair he’s never before been in a situation quite like this. This may very well top his list of ’what the fuck is happening right now’ moments. However, by the end of the night, he is so not complaining.





	What Did He Ever Do (To Get So Damn Lucky)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merwin_Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merwin_Me/gifts).



Stiles has no fucking idea how he keeps getting himself into these situations. Well, to be fair he’s never before been in a situation quite like this. This may very well top his list of  _ ’what the fuck is happening right now’  _ moments. Actually, as Chris continues to slur out words Stiles can hardly make out, he figures it definitely tops the list.

Fuck his life, really.

All Stiles wanted to do was get drunk. It shouldn't be so hard, considering he’s legal now and the bar in Beacon Hills finally started serving him alcohol. He no longer has to drive two towns over to go clubbing with a fake - which he never did very often, not much time left between saving the town every fucking week - and could happily pick up men without the long drive home the morning after. 

Which was what he was trying to do. In fact, to an outsider it may look like that’s exactly what Stiles had done. Bringing home a hot,  _ hot _ man to have his wicked with it. Except the hot, hot man is his best friends-girlfriends-father and while he is hot, Stiles was not taking him home to have his wicked way with. 

He helped Chris into his jeep, staring longingly at the clubs bright, neon sign and also spending a moment to stare after the bar Chris had just stumbled out of. Really, Stiles just wanted to be drunk. Instead, he was strapping Chris in, making sure the seatbelt was clipped in before folding Chris’ hands into his own lap and slamming the door shut. 

Stiles got into his own side, blowing out a long, frustrated breath as he watched Chris slowly blink himself to the present in his passenger seat. God, the man was gone. Then Chris  _ giggled _ and Stiles’ lips twitched up long enough for him to put on his own seatbelt. And then he remembered that Chris lived on the other side of town, at least a thirty-minute drive, and his smile dropped. 

This was ridiculous. Stiles was driving home a grown, drunken man and fuck his own morals, because this was not how he wanted to spend his Saturday night. Not at all. 

Stiles had no idea how the night could get any worse, and fuck his own self for jinxing it all because then Chris - with his hand hanging in the air between them, pointer finger out and aimed at Stiles’ cheek like he wanted to poke it - says, “You have p’etty eyes,”

Stiles’ face goes red with his blush, because of course it does, Christopher Argent is top Daddy material, but before he has the chance to say anything Chris continues his thought. “Like a porn star.”

Stiles chokes a little, on his saliva or his tongue or the fucking  _ air _ , and he prays just a little prayer. He has no idea what to say to that, either, so he shakes his head. He has no idea if Chris even knows what he’s saying - doubts he does with how Stiles can barely understand him - and wonders what will happen the next time he sees Chris sober.

“No! No,” Chris’ voice is serious, so much so that Stiles flicks his eyes over to where the man is frowning at him, “Is true! P’ter says it’s true, Stiles! You - you, you’s eyes like  _ Bambi _ !”

And Stiles has no fucking idea what that means, except that he now can’t get the thought of Chris and Peter  _ talking about him  _ out of his, talking about him enough that Peter would compare him to Bambi and that - well Stiles has no idea what to do with that information so he continues to drive, nodding his head when Chris pokes sharply at his thigh. He looks over again, quick, and Chris is sitting back in his seat, smile smug and content.

Dear fucking god.

Stiles ignores him the best he can, because really, it’s nearly one in the morning and Stiles just really wanted to get drunk, maybe be pressed up against a hot guy with loud, loud music and instead he is  _ here _ . He is sitting in his car, driving down empty roads with Christopher Argent slurring his words in his passenger seat.

“P’ter is so pretty, jus’ike your eyes,” Chris says with a sigh and the entire sentence comes out soft in a way Stiles has never heard Chris talk before. It makes Stiles’ annoyance melt just a little, because it’s hard to be mad at Chris when he sounds - well, he sounds a little in love.

“How pretty is Peter?” Stiles asks because how can he not, really. He’s always been curious to a fault and maybe, just maybe Chris will give a few details about him and Peter that Stiles can use the next time he’s alone.

“He - he is gorgeous!” Chris all but shouts, far too loud for how close they are but it makes Stiles laugh. Chris isn’t someone who shows a lot of emotions and it’s - nice, to see him so relaxed. 

“An’ his  _ ass _ .” Chris says, his arms raised as he makes grabbing motions in the air, as though he were trying to squeeze Peter’s ass right at this moment. 

It is silent for a few minutes after that. Stiles considers turning on the radio but Chris’ steady breathing is nice to listen to. Stiles has spent far too much time alone since he first went away for school and it’s nice to just exist with someone else - even if that someone else is twenty-some years older and drunk out of his mind.

“Chris!” Stiles shouts and he slaps at the man, pushes him away from where he just  _ sucked Stiles’ earlobe into his mouth _ . He looks over to find Chris staring at him, lips pulled down in a frown as he crosses his arms over his chest and fucking pouts.

“Peter says you thin’ we’re sexy,” Stiles can hear the pout in Chris’ voice and he does his best to ignore what he just said. Again, it seems like Chris and Peter talk about him and Stiles doesn’t know what to do with that little bit of information. 

It’s quiet again, now that Chris has started to pout. He doesn’t have any of his earlier enthusiasm and Stiles really doesn't know what to say to bring it back. So he does nothing, still thinking over the fact that Chris and Peter talk about him enough to agree that he has nice eyes and that - fuck, what he thought was a well-hidden crush isn’t so well hidden after all.

“Did you know that a kn-knot c'n last for 15 minutes? S’awesome," Chris says into the quite and Stiles almost  _ swerves the fucking car off the road _ , because no, no he did not know that. But Chris does, which means that Chris has been with Peter, like,  _ been _ with him and, and -

Oh god,  _ Chris has bottomed for Peter _ . Stiles almost crashes again, just fucking picturing it and apparently his prayers from earlier are being completely ignored because Chris just keeps going.

"An-nd, 'is hands do this thing, where he presses on y'r stomach 'nd feels the knot. T-then he growls and i’s the sexiest 'ucking thing you e'er heard," Chris finishes the whole thing off with a moan, a loud fucking moan that has Stiles pants feeling far too tight. He’s thankful their almost at Chris’ apartment because really. There are barely two minutes of driving left before he can pull into the parking garage and Stiles doesn’t think he could handle any more than that.

Chris is breathing heavier than he was, rougher and louder and when Stiles looks over he has a hand pressed into his crotch and he moans again, long and loud and Stiles’ mind nearly blacks out. The only thing that keeps him from focused is the fact that he could literally kill them if he does lose focus, and that’s enough deterrent to push Chris’ fucking  _ sex noises  _ to the back of his mind.

He takes his time parking next to Peter’s expensive fucking sports car - and if he still had any doubts about them being together, Peter’s car parked at Chris’ apartment would clear it all up - sliding into the spot next to Chris’ equally overpriced but far more practical jeep - and just the sight makes Stiles pat Roscoe’s dash in sympathy. 

He breathes for a moment, bracing himself for the walk to the elevator, and then the ride up to Chris’ floor. He’s just glad Allison isn’t here - at least her car isn’t since Stiles is parked in her spot - and he just hopes Chris won’t be too difficult getting inside.

God, Stiles needs at least one thing to go right tonight. 

* * *

Peter is standing in the doorway to Chris’ apartment by the time Stiles hauls Chris out of the elevator. He has his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face and he looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Stiles, for his part in this whole mess, is panting. Chris isn’t light. He is all hard, tight muscle and supporting him is turning out to be harder than Stiles thought it would be.

Stiles glares at Peter as he shoulders more of Chris’ weight and drags him down the hall. Chris isn’t using either of his feet, rather letting Stiles pull him along. He’s pretty sure Chris is purposely being unhelpful, considering he has enough coordination to palm a handful of Stiles’ ass. Stiles ignores it just like he ignores the burning in his cheeks and ups the glare he’s sending Peter’s way from annoyed to murderous.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Christopher?” Peter drawls, stepping out of the way so Stiles can make it through the door - all while watching them with a smirk.

Stiles has been to Chris’ apartment before. Never  _ with _ Chris, of course, but because Scott was his best friend and that meant he had to befriend Allison after everything settled down back in high school. As it turns out, Allison is pretty awesome and Stiles ended up spending a fair bit of his free time with her during senior year. 

So now, Stiles is familiar enough with their apartment that he takes the first left into the living room and drops Chris onto the couch. The man grunts loudly but Stiles ignores him, taking a few deep breaths. He’s not out of shape but being in college has given him a nice break from running for his life and - well, he may be a little out of shape. 

Stiles takes another moment to stand with his hands against his knees, taking one last deep breath before straightening up. He turns on his heel, ready to throw a glare and a sarcastic comment at Peter only to find him blinking slow, staring at the spot of air where Stiles’ ass would have been sticking out. Stiles blushes and he knows it lessens the effect of the glare he’s trying to send Peter. 

“What is this?” Stiles demands, waving a wild hand to where Chris is slumped into the couch. 

“That is Christopher, dear. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten us during your time away at school?” Peter pouts as he asks, knowing full well that’s not true. 

Stiles has tried his best to stay in touch with the whole pack after he left. He was the only one to go away, not even Lydia leaving and he doesn’t regret it. He loves his school and the program he took and he doesn’t regret getting away from the town. 

At first, Stiles didn’t realize anything was wrong. He kept in contact with his dad and talked to him nearly every day. He kept close with Allison and through her talked to Chris and Peter. Lydia called him at least once a week but really, that was it. He hadn’t meant to lose contact with anyone else, Scott especially, but that’s how the dice fell.

But, Peter and Chris are two people he did keep talking too, so he knows Peter is purposely being infuriating. He would be more annoyed, probably, if Peter didn’t look so good in his tight jeans and his fitted sweater. He’s also grown out his beard, which Stiles is apparently quite the fan of, and his hair is a tad longer. 

He looks softer than he did before, and there’s something in the slope of his shoulders that makes him look far less guarded. It’s nice to see. 

“No one mentioned Chris becoming a drunk,” Stiles snaps, looking pointedly where Chris is sprawled on on the couch, eyes glassy as he stares at the far wall. 

“He was just having a little fun. I’m not his father, Stiles, I don’t police his actions,” Peter says with a lazy grin, though the amusement falls short of his eyes

“I m’ssed All’on,” Chris mumbles from the couch. He’s crossed his arms over his chest again and he’s pouting - Stiles had no idea a grown man could pout so much during one night, “The guys gett’n mor’ounds.”

Which is fair, kind of. Allison is in France with Isaac - she has been for months now and she loves it. Stiles doesn't think she’s planning on coming home, not with the way she’s been talking about it. Isaac is in no rush either - after all, there is nothing tying him to the town. But Stiles gets it. He and his dad have been close since his mom died. They clung to each other after her death, terrified of losing anyone else and Stiles knows it’s been similar for the remaining Argents. 

Stiles levels another look at Peter, because really, this whole situation is a mess. “You couldn’t have gone with him?”

“The guys don’t let me play poker with them. In fact, it was your father who banned me from their little get-togethers,” Peter says, looking as though he actually misses the poker games. Stiles has no idea why he would, since they’re sort of awful. At least Stiles thinks they’re awful.

Every week, a few older guys from the station - some retired and some still on the force - meet in some deputies basement or living room and play a few rounds of poker while usually getting drunk enough that their wives have to pick them up after. Of course, his dad doesn’t get drunk, being the Sheriff now he doesn’t feel it’s his place - and drinking has been a slippery slope for far too many years now - and Stiles isn’t surprised he’s the one who banned Peter.

“Werewolf senses wouldn’t make it a fair game,” is all Stiles says and he ignores the flat look Peter gives him to look over at Chris when the man goes to stand, only to fall back on the couch.

“Was there anything else, sweetheart?” Peter says, smirking when Stiles turns back to him only to feel his face heat. 

He’s not sure what exactly possesses him to say it, but before he can think it through he blurts out, “Chris says you have a knot!”

“He does!” Chris shouts, voice surprisingly clear before he then slurs out, “Is feels s’good!”

Stiles blushes harder, really he’s not surprised, and Peter takes a step forward. Peter’s eyes stray to Chris’ for a moment and his expression turns soft. Stiles almost feels like he’s intruding, that he doesn’t deserve to see Peter so unguarded, even if it’s only for a moment. Then Peter looks back at him and Stiles isn’t sure how his face can get any warmer, but he’s sure it does

“I could show you, if you’d like?” Stiles is one hundred and ten percent sure that Peter is being deadly serious and that - well, he’s not sure how to handle that. 

Stiles has done enough experimenting during his time away to know what he likes - he’s an equal opportunity guy in every sense of the word - and he’s sure he would enjoy whatever it is Peter is offering. 

Stiles looks over to Chris since he’s pretty sure Chris and Peter are dating now, nothing else would make any sense at this point, but Chris is - well, Stiles is fairly certain Chris is trying to undo his pants. Which is not much help, really, and Stiles still has no idea what the appropriate response to this situation is.

“P’ter! What’re you doing? Hurry’p an’ show ‘iles your knot,” Chris demands, pausing in what he was doing - and yes, he was definitely undoing his pants - to stare long and hard at Peter. 

“Now, now Christopher. We agreed to court him before we tried to sleep with him, remember?” Peter purrs, leering at Stiles in a way that makes him feel entirely too exposed. 

Chris pouts. Honest to god pouts,  _ again _ , and Stiles is ready to go home. 

“‘Re right.” Chris says, tone miserable as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I - I think I’m going to, like, go? Now?” Stiles takes a step back, watching Peter wearily.

“I’m sure we could bend our own rules, just a little bit. Isn’t that right Christopher?” Peter smirks when he says it and when Stiles looks back to the couch Chris is once again pulling at his pants. This time he gets them undone and pushed down enough to see that he’s not wearing underwear and -

Oh god. That is a penis. That is a very aesthetically pleasing penis and Stiles has no idea what to do with any of this. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” Peter says it soft enough that Stiles doesn’t fight it when Peter closes the distance between them, nor does he push the man away when Peter tilts his chin up with his knuckle or as he presses his thumb against Stiles’ bottom lip.

He doesn’t try to step back when Peter leans in. They’re almost the same height but Stiles is just that bit taller and Peter has to tilt his head up to press their lips together. This kiss is far softer than Stiles had ever imagined it would be and Peter takes Stiles’ bottom lip between both of his gently, sucking for a long moment as Stiles forgets how to breathe.

He hardly notices when Peter pulls away. He breathes in deep and is startled when he realizes he’s got a hand cupping the back of Peter's neck, fingers rubbing through the hairs along his nape. He’s more surprised that Peter lets him. Stiles knows enough about werewolves by now to know the act of trust this is and when Peter brings his arms around Stiles’ waist he finds himself pressing even closer.

The next kiss is more what he expected from Peter. The bite to his lip feels good, though, better when Peter pulls at it, scraps his teeth over the soft flesh. Stiles moans and it’s echoed from across the room. He pulls back from Peter just enough to turn his head - which has the added benefit of getting Peter to suck at the skin along his neck - and Stiles takes a long moment to watch Chris. 

He has his pants further down now, half pushed down around his ankles and a hand is wrapped around his dick. Chris’ dick is thick, fitting heavy in his own hand and Stiles can’t bring himself look away from the slick head. Chris swipes a thumb over it, pushes his nail into his own slit and the sight is enough that Stiles’ nearly comes. Peter chooses that moment to pull back and the loss of sensation pulls Stiles back from the edge.

“Do you like what you see?” Peter asks as he moves both of his hands down to clutch Stiles’ ass. Peter is hard against his thigh and Stiles can hardly think enough to nod his head.

“Yeah,” Chris says with a wide, happy grin and Stiles giggles just a little, knowing the question was for himself, “Get’im naked!”

“Well Stiles, how about it?” Peter asks and he gives Stiles’ ass one last squeeze before he steps away, back towards the couch. “Strip for us.”

Stiles blushes under the attention and he can feel the added weight of Peter’s stare as he settles himself against Chris, pressing his entire body into the other man's side. Chris just settles his left arm against the back of the couch opening up his side for Peter to burrow into. It’s a little weird to see them pressed together like that but it’s a sight that Stiles likes. He shifts on his feet and shrugs when Peter raises his brow at him.

The sway of his hips is slow and he rocks side to side, thrusting forward every few beats. He drags his hands down his sides, plays with the hem of his shirt before he slowly pulls it up and over. Chris is stroking his cock faster than he had been before and he can see that Peter is mouthing at his ear, though he’s staring hot and heavy at Stiles. It makes him feel a little better, at least, and he lets himself toy with his nipples until they’re hard.

He’s never done anything like this before, stripped with such intent, made it a show. It’s nerve-wracking but when he raises his eyes again Peter is palming himself, running his hand up and down the hard length straining against his jeans. Stiles pops his button and pulls down the zipper, tries to make it slow but his cock pulses, strains up now that it’s no longer being held back in his jeans.

He turns, juts out his ass as he slides both his jeans and underwear over the swell of it, bends a little to stick it out even more. When he straightens up he lets them fall to the floor, glad they’re not so tight that he’d have to wiggle out of them. He’s a little more than half hard, has been since Peter first kissed him, and it makes his cock swing heavy when he turns. He thrusts his hips a little and spreads his arms wide out - he also wiggles his fingers, because it’s who he is - and his dick swells a little more with how Chris and Peter are watching him.

Peter pulls off his own shirt then and Stiles gets lost in the show of muscle, the way he rolls his whole body as he does so. He’s dusted with dark hair, running up the line of his abs, across his chest. Stiles gets distracted by his collarbones, the wide shoulders and thick neck and he steps forward, takes the hand Peter holds up.

“Hi,” Stiles says, just a little breathless as Peter tugs him into his lap. Stiles settles himself atop his thighs, bare against Peter’s jeans.

Peter smiles before he pulls Stiles into another kiss, pushes into his mouth and Chris moans beside them. Stiles can still feel Peter’s erection against his ass and he lifts himself, pulls his hands away from Peter’s chest to work on getting Peter’s pants down. He’s not wearing underwear and Stiles moans into the kiss, sucks Peter’s tongue in his mouth and bites at his lips.

Stiles is pushed to the side, breathless and gasping for air and he watches as Peter takes off his jeans, lets him get them down to his thighs before he’s climbing back over. Peter’s warm under him and the drag of Stiles’ cock against the course hairs above Peter’s own feels so, so good. He humps forward again once, twice before Peter goes back to sucking at his neck. Stiles is sure he’ll be leaving with bruises but he can’t bring himself to care.

Peter is warm in his hand and Stiles pulls his foreskin back, swiping a thumb over the head. He’s rewarded when Peter shudders out a breath, hips twitching up as much as they can under Stiles’ weight. Stiles pulls back, takes a moment to breathe, to wonder briefly how he ended up in Peter’s lap with a hand wrapped around his cock.

He’s surprised, pleasantly so, really, when Peter comes. He had expected to finish first but the warm spray against his belly has him smiling into their kiss, twisting his hand on the next upstroke as his other tightens in Peter’s hair, tugging his head back so he can press an open-mouthed kiss to Peter’s neck. Peter is shaking under him, breathing hot and heavy and Stiles’ smile stays.

“Oh god. S’hot, so hot,” Chris mumbles and when Stiles turns he’s staring at them with wide eyes, the hand on his cock moving fast.

Stiles leans over but keeps his place in Peter’s lap, mostly because Peter’s hand is moving slow on his dick and it feels nice. He bats Chris’ hand out of the way and leans down, takes Chris in his mouth and hallows his cheeks. Chris’ hand settle on the top of his head, rough palms dragging over the back of his neck before they push him down. He has to breathe through his nose and relax his throat but it’s worth it when Chris moans again.

It doesn't take long for Chris to come. He’s been stroking himself since before Stiles even started stripping. Stiles pays attention to the head of Chris’ cock, pushing his tongue into the slit like he watched Chris do with his thumb earlier. He scraps he teeth gently over the head and Chris goes off, shooting into Stiles’ mouth as Stiles swallows. 

He keeps Chris in his mouth as the man softens, content to rest his head against Chris’ thigh for a moment. Peter is still stroking him and it feels good despite his awkward position and he finds himself coming into Peter’s hand when the man presses a dry finger against his hole. Peter strokes him through it, gentles his grip when Stiles’ thighs start to shake.

Chris pulls him up and over into his lap and presses their mouths together, licks into Stiles’ own. He’s pretty much sitting between Chris’ spread thighs, his legs now hanging over Peter’s lap but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s spent, mind feeling soft around the edges and his heart is still beating a touch too fast. 

“Let us go to bed, shall we?” Peter suggests and Stiles laughs, smiling over at him.

“I thought you were going to take me out before we slept together?” Stiles asks, teasing Peter on his earlier statement. 

“Well, of course we’re going to take you out. But it is far too late for you to drive him now. We - we have a spare room, if you would like?” Stiles lifts an eyebrow at how hesitant Peter sounds and laughs again when Chris’ arm wraps around him.

“No. You’re staying with us,” The slur in his voice is mostly gone and while Stiles can still smell the alcohol on his breath, Chris seems far soberer than he had been when the whole night started. He’s not one hundred percent, but he’s better and Stiles lets himself be held for a long moment.

“If you insist,” Stiles says as Chris’ beard scrapes over his neck.

“Oh we do, sweetheart,” Peter lifts him bodily off the couch and settles him on his feet before he tugs Chris up. 

Chris takes Stiles by the hand and pulls him down the hall, Peter following close enough that Stiles can feel his heat along his back. This is not the way he thought his night was going to go - seriously he could have never predicted any of this, but really, he’s not complaining. In fact, he finds himself pretty happy with the turn his night took, even more so when he finally gets to bed.

Peter curls up behind him and Chris pulls him tight to his chest. They smell and they’re dirty and Stiles is pretty sure he can feel his own still-cooling come along Peter’s back where they’re pressed together but Stiles can’t bring himself to care. He’s tired, from the drama at the beginning of the night and the orgasm he just had and he figures he could think about this all more in the morning.

Peter nuzzles at the back of his neck, noses as the skin behind his ear and Stiles lets himself drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> I really, truly, don't know. This was supposed to be quick and fun, and then porn happened? To be fair, this is one of my favourite fics, I think. I loved it, so so much, and I had a blast writing this. Thanks, Merwin and Gwen for a few lines in there. 
> 
> I feel like I focused on the Steter in this fic mostly because I've written so, so little of them recently. Still, I like this fic and how it turned out!
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com)


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